Waiting Room
by idkgba27
Summary: "The first time he truly questioned who he was he was still a little kid, probably five or six. It's a real faint memory, one that his parents probably don't even forgotten but looking back at it, analyzing his life it seemed so pivotal." Trans boy Butters Trigger Warning": body dysphoria


**A/N: Hi!**

**Well this is something that I wrote a couple weeks ago and I've published it on my Archive of Our Own and my Tumblr (in both places I'm under the same name as here) and have decided to publish it here too.**

**It's a bit distressing so once again there's trigger warnings for body dysphoria focusing mainly on what would be felt for a FTM individual.**

**Please read and please enjoy :)**

He really doesn't understand why he's the only boy in his school, perhaps in the whole world, who has to wear a dress. The second he closes his bedroom door he begins to unbutton it. He works slowly although every time he even thinks about the fact that he, Butters Stotch, even has one on it makes him want to cry, makes him want to rip it off and throw it as far as he can, but he can't because doing so would go against his parent's teachings. Apparently 'good girls' wear dresses, full-skirted, pretty dresses that should be appreciated for the femininity that they represent.

He doesn't want to represent femininity though all he wants is to be able to put on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt and to cut his hair. If he could at least get permission to cut it even just down to shoulder length he could at least feel as if he's making some progress. He removes his hair clip and undoes his pigtails, letting his blond hair loose. It's almost to his waist and falls in soft waves that he quickly gathers and puts into a bun. As he puts some pins to keep it in place he walks over to his mirror which hangs over his dresser, painted white with pink and yellow flowers.

His whole room is decorated as if it belongs to a little girl even though it never has and he's seventeen anyways though he doesn't exactly hate the colors. In fact he actually likes softer colors and would probably have his room painted in pastels if he could. What he doesn't like is the association these colors have because even if he does like them it doesn't mean anything. He's still a boy and he's not faking it.

The fact that he does like these soft feminine colors is something his parents hold against him but he can't help it. Just like he couldn't help his affinity for Hello Kitty, which is another thing that his parents claim that prove he's really 'okay'.

He's not okay, not at all.

He hasn't been okay with life ever since he was young before he even realized that he wasn't really a 'she'.

The first time he truly questioned who he was he was still a little kid, probably five or six. It's a real faint memory, one that his parents probably don't even forgotten but looking back at it, analyzing his life it seemed so pivotal.

Butters doesn't remember at what store they were at or what they had initially been out to get he just remembers asking if he could get a toy and his parents, in a surprisingly generous mood, had told him yes. He remembers holding his mother's hand and attempting to pull her towards a shelf holding what appeared to be dolls but they weren't. These dolls were of men, muscular and masked, and Butters doesn't even get to look at the box for long before his mother is pulling him back, redirecting him to the shelf across from it.

"No, no those aren't for little girls, sweetie."

Back then Butters was barely able to get a coherent sentence together partially because of his age and a speaking impediment. Still he was able to verbalize his thoughts into a question that was so childish it made his mother laugh.

"But… but m-momma, why?"

"Because those are boy toys, Marjorine, those aren't for you."

That's when the first distinction was made, the first separation between him and other boys.

He looks back at the reflection in his mirror and he doesn't get it, doesn't understand why there's a difference between him and the boys at school. His face might be a bit softer, even feminine but that doesn't matter. It's just a face and that shouldn't stop him from being a boy, shouldn't make him a girl.

He smiles back at himself, though it's a bit forced it's still nice to see a smile directed at him. No one's ever happy to see him at school he's an outcast. At school he's just that weird girl who sits in the corner and cries over every little thing then when he's at home he's still a girl, broken and such a disappointment. Yet he never gets a chance to be the boy he really is, never gets the chance to be Butters, he's always 'Marjorine', a girl he's never met and is certain never existed in the first place.

Even though he knows he'll regret it he allows his eyes to drift lower and that's when he sees it.

It's not the only reason but it's one of the reasons. It's why he can't 'truly' be a boy, why he 'must' be a girl.

Earlier he had only managed to unbutton his dress, hadn't yet pulled it off, and right there on his chest where breasts. He tries his best to forget that they're there and sometimes he's able to. They're rather small for a girl but for him they're still too much, unwanted lumps of fat sitting on his chest.

According to his mother they're natural and it's only one of the many gifts that womanhood has 'blessed' him with. At least that's what she told him when she found him in his room crying when at fourteen puberty was finally happening.

Even after all of her reassurance none of womanhood feels natural to Butters, not the breasts, not the menstrual bleeding, or that area between his legs.

He doesn't want of those blessing, never asked for any of them.

The only thing he ever asked for, the only thing he truly ever asked for was for his parents to call him Butters and to realize that their daughter was never there, that all this time they had a son.

His parents don't realize it though and won't even consider him as anything other than a phase.

However his reflection, the boy whose body refuses to grow how he wants it to isn't a phase so he just turns away from the mirror, pulling off his dress and placing it in his hamper.

He walks back to his dresser and opens a drawer, making sure to ignore the person in the mirror, and takes out a t-shirt that's way too big for his small frame. That's really the only reason he wears it though because it hides his curves. He then pulls out the drawer further, going to the bottom of it where hidden underneath all his clothes he has his most prized possession.

It's a pair of boxers and it's the only article of clothing that truly makes Butters feel like Butters. He removes his panties and puts them on before pulling up a pair of pajama pants to keep them hidden again.

Butters gives himself a quick glance in the mirror and this time actually likes what he sees because he can't see his body in his oversized shirt and having his hair up like this gives him a glance of who he can look like in the future, once he's no longer dependent on his parents and when he'll no longer be a confused child but an adult that they can believe in.

He makes his way over to his bed and pulls up the blanket before climbing in.

Normally he'd still be awake, maybe doing chores or homework, but he's been grounded again, sent to bed without dinner just because he asked his father to stop calling him 'Marjorine'.

Though he's been telling both his father and mother that's not his name, not even who he is they still won't listen. All they say is that one day 'she'll' get 'her' life together, find a proper husband and have kids but that's not what Butters wants to do with his life. He does want to find someone who can love him and who he can love back and he does want to have kids someday but he just doesn't want to be a 'wife' or a 'mother', he wants to be a husband and a father.

Still that's far into the future when he'll finally be able to leave this room, this town, and everyone in it.

He turns in his bed to face the wall where he keeps his calendar. It's the first thing he sees every morning and the first thing he does is mark off the date.

He's keep track of the days and he only has 246 to go before he can be an adult, before he can leave, before he can Butters and have everyone, including his parents, believe him, only 246 more days to go until he's eighteen and he can finally be Butters.

With that reassurance Butters smiles to himself and pulls the blanket up to his chin because he's waited this long and he's only got a little more time to wait.

**A/N: Thanks for reading 3**


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